Remarkable
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Sherlock is reminded of another facet of Molly's job that results in a subtle change in his behaviour and his perception of her. Implied/Pre-Sherlolly.


**A/N: It occurred to me the other day that, as a pathologist, Molly would have to do identifications (as we see in ASiB). I decided to write something about that scenario; although, as so many of my stories do, it turned out a bit differently to what I had planned. But I hope you like it :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_**Remarkable**_

"Dr. Hooper?"

Sherlock and Molly both looked up to find one of her interns popping his head around the door to the lab.

"You're needed in the morgue," he told her, glancing nervously at Sherlock who had turned back to the microscope.

"I'll be right there," Molly assured him, standing up and taking her gloves off. The intern nodded and, with another nervous glance in Sherlock's direction, disappeared.

"You can't leave now," Sherlock informed her, still staring down the microscope.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," she replied absently as she straightened her lab coat and fixed her hair, "I'm sure you'll cope without me," she added, breezing passed him.

"This is for a case Molly," he reminded her, finally looking up.

Molly paused to look back at him, already halfway out the door, "I'm sorry," she said again, "but this is important."

She was gone before Sherlock could think of a suitable reply.

He stared after her for a few minutes, trying to think what could _possibly_ be more important than him and his work. He frowned as he turned back to his microscope, it shouldn't matter – it _didn't_ matter – and yet it still bothered him that he'd failed to convince her to stay.

For the first time something other than himself had taken precedence in Molly Hooper's mind and he didn't like it.

He sighed heavily, he wasn't going to get any work done now; he _had_ to know why she had gone.

Noticing his dark mood, the hospital staff gave him a wide berth as he made his way down to the morgue. Sherlock didn't really notice, he was too busy mentally rehearsing the lecture he was going to give Molly about leaving during a critical moment in an experiment and how it was somehow all her fault that he had to come and find her.

He was still in the middle of working out _how_ it was all her fault, when he rounded the corner and found a security guard waiting outside the door. He quickened his pace, suddenly concerned that something might have happened to his pathologist.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't go in there," the security guard informed him, stepping into his path.

"Why? Has something happened?" he asked trying not to sound too concerned as he attempted to look passed the guard and into the morgue.

"There's an identification taking place," the guard told him seriously, "Dr. Hooper is always very particular about making sure the bereaved aren't disturbed."

Sherlock took a step back thoughtfully, this was a part of Molly's work that he'd only ever experienced once when _he_ had been the one to make an identification. Thinking back to the incident he realised that, even then, a security guard had been present; one that had discreetly slipped away once the process was over.

"Do you know how long she will be?" he asked after a moment.

The security guard shrugged a shoulder, "Hard to say, some of them stay longer than others. Dr. Hooper never rushes them," he paused, "she's a remarkable woman."

Sherlock caught sight of Molly through the window in the door, talking quietly with a weeping woman. "Yes, she is," he agreed in a low tone, almost of his own volition, before turning abruptly on his heel and disappearing down the corridor.

Molly returned to the lab a couple of hours later, looking much more subdued than when she had left. She stopped short at the sight of Sherlock cleaning his petri dish, beaker and the other paraphernalia he'd borrowed for his experiment.

"What did you do?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Sherlock looked up, "I finished my experiment," he said simply, "so I'm cleaning the equipment."

"You _never_ clean up after one of your experiments," she retorted, coming over to join him at the sink. She looked around the room dubiously, "Just tell me what you did."

Sherlock's face was the picture of wounded innocence, "I didn't do anything."

She narrowed her eyes as she regarded him and he did his best not to squirm under her gaze, knowing from past experience that she was surprisingly hard to fool.

"You're lying."

It was Sherlock's turn to regard her closely and he could see that she hadn't found anything in his face to give him away, but she wasn't convinced of his innocence. Any other day he would have called her bluff and dared her to find something amiss, but not today.

Today he could also see the weariness and the sadness in the back of her eyes, she had a big heart and it was only natural that she would empathise with the bereaved. He wondered how many other times she'd sat with grieving families before coming to help him, cheerful smile firmly in place.

He blinked, ending his train of thought and breaking the stalemate between them.

"I followed you," he confessed, noting the emotions that flittered across her face at his statement, most of them were so quick that he couldn't properly identify them.

"Why?"

Sherlock had the grace to look a trifle guilty, "I wanted to see what was so important," he admitted.

She eyed him again and Sherlock had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew he'd wanted to know what had been more important than _him_. Instead of getting angry with him, as he had half expected her to, she smiled.

"Thank you," she said finally, confusing Sherlock, "for not making a scene," she continued, "and for cleaning up, I wasn't looking forward to that."

Sherlock gave her a half-smile, before turning back to the task at hand, watching out of the corner of his eye as Molly started to dry the dishes.

He'd always suspected that Molly Hooper had hidden depths, but he had never really concerned himself with them; at least, not until his 'suicide' when he had turned to her for her help.

He always missed something and it wasn't until now that he realised he'd missed just how truly remarkable Molly was. He promised himself that he wouldn't be making that mistake again.

Despite pressing the point on several occasions, John never found out what Molly had said to Sherlock for him to start cleaning up after himself at the hospital.

Although, to be honest, he was more confused about Sherlock's silent acquiesce to Molly being called away during experiments and why he always brought her a coffee, without any prompting, and left her to herself upon her return.

In the end he gave up, like he did with so many things when it came to the consulting detective, and just admired the fact that the pathologist had succeeded where he had failed.


End file.
